


5. Accident

by Amorette



Series: Ten Things That Never Happened to Willie Loomis [5]
Category: Dark Shadows - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2019-01-18 17:34:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12392814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amorette/pseuds/Amorette
Summary: Yes, it hurts. And yes, I describe it kind of graphically. So warning for a bit of bloodshed.





	5. Accident

10 THINGS THAT NEVER HAPPENED TO WILLIE LOOMIS  
5\. ACCIDENT

Willie Loomis was lying on his back on the cot in the Collinsport jail, an ice pack held against his bruised ribs, when he heard the exterior door open and his employer say, his voice colder than the ice, “I understand my servant is here.”

Servant. Of course. Not employee. Not a modern term like that. Servant. And the truth was, he wasn’t Barnabas’ servant, he was Barnabas’ slave, because of the hold Barnabas had over him.

Willie could hear Sheriff Patterson babbling an explanation, about how Willie was standing in the alley behind Hungerford Hardware, loading a special order of wood into the back of Willie’s pickup, when two men came around the corner, threw Willie against the truck and then added a few expert punches. Willie hadn’t had time to fight back because Ed Hungerford had come out the back door of his store, shouting at the thugs to leave Willie alone. The men had run off and Ed had helped Willie inside and called the Sheriff.

“So,” said Barnabas in that incredibly haughty voice of his, “you arrested Willie because he was attacked and made no attempt. . .”

“No, no, no, Mr. Collins.” Patterson sounded as if he were about to wet himself. 

Having faced down Barnabas many times, Willie could sympathize. Barnabas Collins was a terrifying man. Willie grinned because he knew what made Barnabas even scarier than his mere presence and the Collins name. He sat up, setting the ice pack aside and reaching for his jacket.

Willie stepped out of the cell and walked into the outer room. “He didn’t arrest me. I was just lying down.”

“Ah.” Barnabas gave a Willie a quick glance, then turned his attention back to the Sheriff. “So you arrested his attackers?”

“Well, no, Mr. Collins. We got their descriptions but it wasn’t much to go by and as Loomis wasn’t hurt bad and. . .” Patterson’s voice trailed off and he swallowed nervously. “A little fight in the alley is nothing around here.”

“My servant was attacked and you have made no effort to find the criminals who attacked him, is that what you are saying?”

If Willie hadn’t been in pain from the very practiced hits he had taken to his belly and back, he would have laughed. Watching Barnabas shred someone besides him, especially someone like Patterson, who treated Willie like dirt, even if he was employed by Barnabas Collins of the Collins family, was entertaining. 

“No, Mr. Collins.” The Sheriff held up a sheet of paper on which the blurry letters of carbon spelled out the description of Willie’s attackers. “We’ve sent this out to all the local bars and cafes and motels, all up and down Route 1. If anyone sees these two guys, they are supposed to call me. Right away.”

Barnabas leaned closer, reading the words on the paper. He looked back at Patterson, obviously finding the note inadequate. 

“As a taxpayer, I expect you will make more of an effort than just asking if they have been seen. I would expect an active investigation.”

Willie was enjoying this more than he should. Watching Patterson wilt under that dark gaze was pretty damn entertaining. And Barnabas, he could use that deep, elegant voice of his as sharply as a knife. Willie suspected even if Barnabas Collins were an ordinary man and not a demon out of Hell itself, Barnabas would still be impressive. Tall, striking but not handsome, carrying himself with arrogance and pride, Barnabas Collins was, well, Barnabas Collins. The kind of man who could wear a caped coat in a little New England town without fear of mockery. The kind of man who could be seen as an eccentric in an eccentric family and still be feared and respected. 

“Of course, Mr. Collins. We’ve sent this message all over the state through the teletype and I will have my deputies conducting personal interviews in the morning. It’s just, there was a bad accident on the edge of town and they are out there helping with it. Bus of tourists slid off the road just before Frenchman’s Bridge. . . “

“I look forward to your report tomorrow evening. Come, Willie.”

As they stepped out into the cool evening air, Willie zipped up his jacket, wincing involuntarily as he did.

“Are you injured?”  


“Naw. Took a few punches is all. They ran off before they could do much damage.”

“And why, exactly, did these men accost you? To rob you?”

Willie, who was walking back towards the alley where his truck was parked, ducked his chin down and mumbled an answer.

“They wanted Jason.”

Barnabas was following close behind, his cane ticking against the pavement as he walked. Willie know he didn’t have to speak clearly. Barnabas could hear him, sometimes even when Willie wasn’t speaking out loud.

Willie kept walking. “They asked me where McGuire was. I didn’t even have a chance I . . .couldn’t tell could I?”

“No. You couldn’t. Why did they want Mr. McGuire?”

Willie stopped and felt Barnabas stop at the same time. No problem with Barnabas bumping into his servant. Barnabas’ reflexes were much better than that. Better than human. Willie turned, squinting up at Barnabas.

“They didn’t say. One of them grabbed me and threw me against the truck while the other one hit me and said ‘Where’s McGuire?’ I d-didn’t even realize w-what he was asking at first. Then Ed Hungerford came out and Ed’s a big guy and they ran off.” He hated it when his childhood stammer came back but Barnabas had that effect on him.

Barnabas’ expression was blank. Willie couldn’t tell if his master was angry or not.

“You didn’t recognize them yourself?”

“I didn’t get a good look but no. I don’t think so. One guy was short and dark and had on a red and black flannel jacket like almost everybody around here wears. The other guy was taller and broader and wore a blue coat, I think. I didn’t see their faces clearly.” He didn’t say he was trying to not to vomit on himself from the sharp punches. “It was getting dark, the alley doesn’t have a light in it. Ask Ed Hungerford. He’ll tell you the same thing.”

“All right.” Barnabas now stepped ahead of Willie, into the very alley under discussion. Willie’s white truck was still parked there. “I arose and shortly afterward, there was Mrs. Johnson at the door with the news that you were in jail. I apologize for thinking the worst.”

Willie blinked. In the two years he had been in Collinsport, he had learned the most unnerving thing about Barnabas, even more unnerving than his being a vampire who had spent 150 years trapped in his coffin, slowly going insane, was that sometimes, the vampire was the polite, well-brought-up gentleman he had been in the late eighteenth century, before he had been cursed. And sometimes that guy showed up just when Willie was least expecting it. Like now.

Willie walked around the back of the truck. As he did, the door to the hardware store opened and Ed Hungerford stepped out. “Hey, Willie. You okay? Those guys looked like they knew what they were doing. Oh, good evening, Mr. Collins. Those guys just jumped him and then ran off. I finished loading your truck.”

Barnabas said solemnly, “Thank you very much for your kindness, Mr. Hungerford. I appreciate it.”

“Any time, Mr. Collins. I’m sorry Willie got hurt. Those guys must have thought he was someone they knew. I didn’t recognize them so I’m sure they aren’t from around here.”

“Very kind, Mr. Hungerford. Thank you, again.”

Ed looked a bit embarrassed to be treated to the full Collins arrogant politeness, so he muttered something about supper and stepped back into his store, pulling the door shut behind him with just a bit more force than might have been necessary.

“I suppose you didn’t drive down from the Old House?” It had taken several weeks and a great deal of cursing and patience from both Willie and Dr. Julia Hoffman to teach Barnabas how to drive but they had managed it. Willie had some old acquaintances in Boston come up with a fake passport so Barnabas even got a driver’s license. The passport had been tricky, since vampires didn’t appear in photographs, but Willie had found a bum with the right sort of face, cleaned him up, paid him $20 and then the forger had artfully scratched the photo. Besides, nobody looked like their passport photo. Fortunately, Maine had not started adding photos to drivers’ licenses the way some states had. When that happened, Willie had no idea what he was going to to.

“No. But I can drive back.”

“No, you can’t. The pickup has a clutch.”

Barnabas frowned and Willie shrugged. Barnabas had not managed to master a manual transmission and Julia and Willie had run out of energy so Barnabas drove a very expensive Mercedes purchased on Roger’s recommendation. It was an automatic.

There was a moment when Willie wasn’t sure what Barnabas was going to do, whether he was simply going to vanish, as he did sometimes, or lose his temper, which he did a lot. Instead, Barnabas sighed and opened the passenger door. As Willie climbed in the driver’s side, digging his keys out of his pocket, Barnabas said, “Hungerford might be watching.”

“Ah.” 

They drove back in near silence. Only when they were out of town did Barnabas say, “How would they have known where to find you? And since it has been more than two years since you got here, why now?”

“I dunno.” Willie turned the heat up as the engine warmed. Once it got dark in Maine in the fall, it got cold. He had planned to be back during the day so was only wearing a light jacket. “I swear, Barnabas.” He ran his hand back through his hair in a nervous habit he hated as much as his stammer. “I got no idea. I know Jason probably told people where he was going. He liked to boast. But why now, I d-don’t have a clue.”

Barnabas had placed his cane between his knees, set his hands on it and rested his chin on his hands. The pick-up didn’t have seat belts but Barnabas never wore his when he drove the Mercedes, which did have them. After all, it wasn’t as if an accident could hurt him.

“I don’t like it.”

“Well, jeez, Barnabas, neither do I. I can’t tell them where Jason is even if they beat the crap out of me and I think they were planning on that.”

“I do hope Sheriff Patterson makes more of an effort than he appeared to be making.”

Willie laughed. “Don’t worry. You pulled the full Collins on him.”

Barnabas turned, frowning. “The what?”

“The line about being a taxpayer. Since the Collins family pays more taxes than everybody else in the county combined, county employees say ‘how high?’ when a Collins says jump.”

To Willie’s astonishment, Barnabas actually laughed softly and sat back into the passenger seat. “My father used to use that very phrase. Amazing how well it still works.”

****

Willie was in the lead, showing Barnabas where the road — well, more of a two lane trail — that lead behind the Old House to the old cemetery was starting to slide down the hill. They had had an exceptionally wet spring and summer and with fall turning out the same, a section of the road had fallen away. Willie shone his flashlight on the worse part, where the hill had slumped, taking the road with it..

“I can still get up in the truck if I’m careful but if it gets worse, there wouldn’t be any road left next spring. Now you don’t really need a road to Eagle Hill but it is handy, especially with the historical society getting excited about doing research up there.”

Barnabas leaned on his cane, frowning at the spot Willie was showing him. He could see it clearly even without Willie’s flashlight. He wasn’t very happy about the historical society poking around what he thought of as his cemetery — after all, he had immediate family buried there and had spent a century and a half in its confines — but Elizabeth Stoddard was pleased that the stones would be restored and recorded. Roger Collins was happy because the local historical group had gotten a grant to help pay for it so he wasn’t going to have to cough up for the project. So Barnabas had had to concede the point. After all, he couldn’t really explain why he objected.

“I talked to Ralph Miller, he’s got the equipment for it, and he can change the road around so it’s farther from the edge.” Willie gestured with the flashlight towards some trees. “He said routing it over there would be best. Erosion or something.”

Barnabas said nothing.

Willie waited. He hadn’t wanted to do this but the pressure was on from Collinwood.

“Roger said he’ll pay for the permitting, even the road is technically on what is sort of your property.”

Barnabas sighed. “I suppose you should have him get started before the ground freezes.”

Willie didn’t have a chance to answer. The sound of a vehicle coming up the road, too fast from the sound of it, made him turn and shine his flashlight. A big car, maybe an old Lincoln, was chewing up the ground as it roared towards them. Willie’s eyes went wide as he dropped his flashlight, turning to dive out of the way as the car came directly towards him. He glanced at the two occupants. He suspected they were the two guys from the alley two days ago, in the front seat. Then he was pushed, out of the way of the car and over the edge of the hill. As he rolled down the hill, there was a sickening thump as the car hit something flesh and blood.

Then Barnabas came crashing down the hill, landing on top of Willie. 

The car had stopped. Willie lay quietly, Barnabas on top of him. He could hear the two men talking as they peered down the slope.

“Did you hit him?’ said one.

“We hit something,” said the other. “I think it was him.”

“If you killed him, we can’t ask him about McGuire.”

“Yeah, yeah, well nobody else can either.”

“Was there someone with him?”

“I’m not sure. I think there was another guy but he was dressed all in black.” 

“If we hit his boss, we’re in trouble. Nobody cares about Loomis but that other guy. . .”

“Maybe we better go back to town just in case.”

They both sounded scared. Willie could sympathize. Murdering a member of one of the richest families in the area was not a good idea. He reluctantly admitted that nobody would be much upset if he were dead but if Barnabas were, well, deader, there would be hell to pay.

He heard the men scrambling back up the hill and then the big engine was gunned as the car turned around.

“Barnabas?” Willie said softly. There was no sound of breathing and his master was a dead weight on his body but that didn’t mean anything where Barnabas was concerned.

Barnabas made a sound, a low groan, unlike any noise Willie had heard him make before. Bracing himself, Willie rolled over, hearing Barnabas fall to the ground with a wet splash.

“Barnabas?” He had lost the flashlight further up the hill. Ignoring his own pains, including a really sore eye, he scrambled up the hill to where he could see the flashlight shining at the sky. Grabbing it, he aimed it back down, nearly dropping it when the beam caught Barnabas.

The vampire was lying on his back, his entire body at an unnatural angle. His left leg was bent even more unnaturally, the white of the thigh bone protruding through torn flesh and fabric. Willie dropped the light, breathing quickly to control his nausea and horror. What if a vampire could be killed? A stake would do it. Sunlight would do it. Maybe a big old car could do it, too. Maybe they just didn’t know that back in the old days.

Willie managed to grasp the flashlight and slide down the hill again. As he got closer, Barnabas said something and flailed his left arm as if he wanted Willie to take it. When Willie did, even though he was shaking and babbling in terror, Barnabas said, “Pull.”

“You want me to pull your arm? What about your leg.”

Barnabas’ fingers dug into the taut muscle of Willie’s arm and, using Willie as an anchor, heaved his upper body until it was lying in more normal alignment with the rest of him. 

“Oh, Jesus.” Willie wasn’t used to appealing to higher powers, especially when dealing with a vampire, but some fragment of his Catholic childhood suddenly floated up on a panicked wave. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph.”

Barnabas’ response was a sharp cry of pain as he pulled on Willie again. Then he dropped his arm, panting, his face twisted in a grimace of pain.

The car hadn’t killed Barnabas but it had done some serious damage. Enough to have killed an ordinary man and enough to hurt a vampire.

Willie knelt next to his master, his hands shaking so hard the flashlight beam danced over the blood and mud that covered Barnabas’ expensive suit and fancy caped coat. Barnabas stared up at Willie, his face white against the mud. Gritting his teeth, fangs bared, Barnabas gasped out, “Leg.”

“It’s it’s its’ b-br-broken.”

Barnabas rolled his eyes, indicating he was aware of that. “Pull,” he gasped in a watery voice so unlike his usual smooth baritone that it just frightened Willie even more. “Pull it straight.”

“Oh, shit.” Willie stuck the flashlight on a forked branch so he could see what he was doing as he scooted past the mess of bone and tissue to grab Barnabas by the ankle of the broken leg. The words from some old First Aid course drifted through Willie’s thoughts. Compound fracture. And it was really compounded. Willie grabbed Barnabas’ ankle and pulled, watching in horror as the bones straightened and sank back into the flesh.

Barnabas let out a howl of pain and Willie dropped the leg.

“I should get Julia,” Willie stammered, vaguely aware the he could sense the agony Barnabas was in and wondering what he would do if that got worse. There was a mental link between them, but it had lain mostly dormant of late. Barnabas hadn’t been compelled to summon Willie with a mental shout in some time. He could feel his own hurts sharply but there was a background of worse pain that Willie knew belonged to Barnabas.

“Wait.” Barnabas used his arms to adjust himself on the ground and Willie thought he heard the sounds of bones shifting. 

Barnabas closed his eyes. Willie waited, aware of the cold wet mud beneath him, sucking away his strength. After what seemed forever, Barnabas opened his eyes again and spoke, his voice closer to normal. “I need blood to heal. Now.”

“Oh, Jesus.” Willie put his head in his hands. He could feel that, too. Barnabas would be able to mend the broken bones and torn flesh but he hadn’t fed yet that night and now he needed to, urgently. Fumbling with his shirt sleeve, Willie extended his wrist to hold it over Barnabas’ exposed fangs. “Be careful. I need to be able to get back to the Old House and get Julia and the truck.”

It was Willie’s turn to gasp in pain. Barnabas was as desperate as had been that night in the mausoleum and he tore into Willie’ wrist like a ravening dog. Willie tried not to whimper, even as his reflexes tried to pull back from the burn and tear. Barnabas’ grip was like iron and there was nothing Willie could do but hope Barnabas still had self control of iron as well. After what seemed to Willie to be minutes of agony, Barnabas suddenly let go of his arm. Clapping his hand over his bleeding wrist, Willie lay on the ground, gasping, trying to convince his hammering heart to slow down and the rest of him not to pass out.

He could feel his blood seeping through his fingers and managed to sit up, yanking a pocket handkerchief out of his pants to wrap tightly around his wrist. That effort made his head spin so he lay back down, panting.

“Sorry,” whispered Barnabas. Odd, thought Willie, to have Barnabas apologize to him, but he supposed Barnabas wanted him to get up and get moving as much as Willie wanted to get up and moving himself. He could feel Barnabas urging him to get moving through their link. Right. Sit up and don’t throw up or pass out and that will be progress.

Willie was rather pleased with himself for managing both the items on his list.

Barnabas gestured towards the Old House. “Cut through the woods.” His voice was still shaky and sounded like that of a man in pain. “It’s quicker.”

“Right.” Willie stood up, picking up the flashlight as he did so. He looked back at Barnabas, whose eyes were closed. “I”ll be quick as I can.”

“Careful,” gasped Barnabas, “Stream.”

“Right. I won’t fall.”  


Willie remembered reading about people who could accomplish miraculous feats of strength under the right circumstances, like a mother lifting a car off their child, but right now, he thought staying upright and heading in the right direction would be adequate. Fortunately, the night was getting colder and he was wet and aching and that alone kept him from stopping. He wanted to be somewhere warm and safe and that was —and it was funny enough that he actually laughed out loud —the kitchen of an ancient mansion that belonged to a vampire.

The shortcut through the woods was much quicker than following the curving road and Willie was soon staggering through the back door and collapsing in a kitchen chair, resting his head on the table. He made enough noise that Julia Hoffman, looking all medicinal and efficient in her white lab coat, came trotting up from the cellar

“Willie! What on earth?”

“Hi.” He sat up, amused by her horrified expression. “We got hit by a car.”

“WHAT?!”

Right. He took a deep breath and explained, as best he could. Julia insisted she needed her medical bag, although Willie told her he doubted it would help Barnabas.

“How badly is he injured?” she asked him as she practically shoved him into the truck. “As badly as you?”

Willie blinked. He was in the passenger’s side and Julia was holding out her hand for the keys. He almost complained, but his arm hurt and shifting would be a bitch, plus one eye was swelling shut and he was still light-headed. He dug in his pocket and handed Julia the keys. She ground the gears a bit but started up the road as he directed.

His mind wandered a bit and he answered the question she hadn’t asked. “I think it was those two guys who jumped me in the village day before yesterday.”

Julia frowned, keeping her eyes on the road. “Barnabas said they were looking for your friend.”

“Yeah.” Willie spared a brief thought for poor Jason, buried in the mausoleum with no one to light candles for his soul. “Anyway, this big old car came out of nowhere and they sped up as they got closer.” He thought for a moment. “I think they couldn’t see Barnabas, not in his dark clothes.” Willie glanced down at his jacket and trousers, both of which were light khaki-color under the dirt and blood now staining them. “And his dark hair. I bet they didn’t even see him there.”

“So they hit you on purpose?”

“I think they were just trying to scare me, but when they hit the brakes, the car slid in the mud. Barnabas shoved me out of the way and then the car hit him.” Willie had to stop and draw a few deep breaths. “He saved my life. I’d been killed if that car hit me.”

“Then what?”

“They drove off and Barnabas rolled down the hill on top of me.” More deep breaths to slow the wave of nausea that the recollection brought with it. “He was hit bad. I know his leg was broken. The bone stuck out.” Pause. Breathe. “I think his back was broken, too.”

“WHAT?” Julia glanced over at Willie before focusing on the narrow track she was following.

“He looked sort of crooked and had to straighten out. I straightened out his leg and then he. . .” Willie gestured with his bandaged wrist. “But I think he’ll be fine. You know, being undead and all.”

Julia just made a strange, strangled sound that might have been a laugh or a sob. They bounced along the road until the truck’s headlights picked out an area where the ground had been torn up, obviously by a vehicle turning around awkwardly. Willie slid out of the truck, calling his master’s name and was startled to get a reply from fairly close by.

Barnabas’ fancy cane had actually come in handy. Barnabas had managed to get back up the hill and was sitting on a stump by the side of the road. In the beam of the headlights, Willie could see how much damage had been done. Even his coat was torn and Willie could see that black blood soaked through much of his clothing. His normally tidy hair looked windblown and his face was stained with mud and blood. His expression was grim but he didn’t look to be in as much pain as he had been.

Julia ran over to the vampire, medical bag in hand, ignoring the muck splashing on her legs. Barnabas held up a hand to stop her, smiling weakly.

“Really, Julia. What are going to do? Check my blood pressure?’

Even though she was wearing a skirt, Julia dropped to her knees next to Barnabas. “Maybe. You look terrible.”

He glanced down at himself. “I’m going to have visit my tailor in Boston. This suit is ruined.” He pulled up the torn corner of his caped coat. “Even need a new Inverness. Damn.”

Julia laughed weakly. “To think I was worried about you. Willie said. . . he thought. . .”

“I am quite sure my back was broken, as were a lot of bones, and inside things were torn.” He pressed a hand against his stomach. “But I’m better. I could still use. . .”

Julia nodded and started unbuttoning the top of her coat.

“Wait.”

Julia and Barnabas turned to look at Willie.

“Get in the back of the truck. We should get out of this cold. I should, anyway.”

“Come here.” Barnabas leaned on his cane to stand and slid his arm around Willie’s shoulder. They staggered over to the truck and Willie helped Barnabas slide into the back. Julia climbed up after, medical bag still clutched in her hand.

“Lie down,” she commanded to Barnabas as Willie slammed the tailgate shut. “Vampire or not, you look like you are about to faint.”

“Vampire or not,” muttered Barnabas, willingly stretching out in the back of the truck. It wasn’t comfortable but Willie suspected it was still better than lying in the mud halfway down a hill. “I feel like it. I had forgotten what real pain is like. It’s not pleasant.”

Willie laughed weakly. Julia took advantage of the situation, seating herself and pulling Barnabas so his head rested in her lap. “Get a room,” said Willie as cheerfully as he could before heading back to the drivers seat.

Julia laid a hand on Barnabas’ stomach and pressed down. He winced and sucked in his breath. “Don’t do that,” he said, reaching for her wrist. “This may hurt but . . .”

Willie knew Julia was a bit disappointed that she was getting the same treatment that Willie got rather than one of Barnabas’ female victims but this was hardly a time to argue. Julia had left the truck idling and although it hurt to yank the gear shift with his injured arm, he managed to get them turned around and heading back to the Old House. He drove more slowly than Julia had, partly because he didn’t want to jostle his two passengers and partly because he couldn’t see out of his right eye.

When they pulled up in back of the Old House, Willie shut down the truck, resting his aching head against the steering wheel for a second, before getting out to open the tailgate. Barnabas slid out first, still leaning heavily on his cane. Julia, one wrist bandaged, slid onto her feet, having the hold on to the back of the truck for a moment.

“Take me downstairs,” Barnabas said softly to Willie, having again slung his arm around Wille’s shoulders. 

“Okay.” They started inside, Julia bringing up the rear. She started to say something as Willie and Barnabas headed for the cellar door but one look from Barnabas quelled her. She went over to the sink and started pumping water.

The steps were narrow and had no railing, which made getting down without falling a challenge, but they managed. At the bottom of the stairs, Barnabas pulled away and limped towards his open casket.

“Tell Julia to stay upstairs,” he said. “Both of you. I’ll be fine. Oh, and sorry about that eye. I think that was my elbow.”

Willie managed a weak smile. “Considering the alternative, I can live with it.”

Barnabas normally sort of tossed himself into his coffin rather like an athlete vaulting over a bar but he was just standing, leaning on it, as Willie walked up the stairs. He pulled the door shut behind him, saying to Julia even before she had a chance to speak, “He wants us to stay upstairs.”

Julia’s lips drew into a thin, disapproving line.

“You can’t do anything,” said Willie, sitting down at the table and starting to unwrap the handkerchief around his wrist, wincing as he got a better look at the damage. “Let him alone. I don’t think he likes being seen like this.”

“I can’t say I much like it either.” She handed Willie a tea towel she had soaked in cold water. “Put this against that eye. You’re going to have one hell of a black eye.”

Willie shrugged. “Not my first.” He watched Julia moving efficiently around the kitchen, taking the tea kettle off the back burner and filling a basin with water. She was in full doctor mode and since she couldn’t doctor Barnabas, she was taking it out on Willie. He didn’t mind, as she checked him over, washing and bandaging the worst of the cuts and bruises, even when she put a stinging antiseptic on everything. She wrapped his wrist tightly, frowning. 

“He was kind of desperate,” said Willie, finding himself apologizing for Barnabas’ rather crude technique. “He did that the first time, too. Tore my wrist all up. Weird thing, it was healed in a few hours.”

“Well, the rest of these injuries will take more than a few hours. You’re going to be hurting tomorrow.” She set a bottle of pills on the table. “Take two tonight but eat something before you take two more tomorrow.”

“He saved my life. If he hadn’t shoved me out of the way, I’d been hit, and I woulda had my back broken, I’d be dead. I don’t get him sometimes. Beats the crap out of me with his cane one day, saves my life the next.”

Julia frowned as tended to her own injured wrist. Her’s had just two neat puncture marks. “He hasn’t hit you with his cane in months.”

“No.” Willie shook his head. “I’m still scared of him but now, I feel sorry for him, too. I don’t think Barnabas likes being Barnabas.”

Julia sighed. “I think you’re right.”

They sat quietly for a moment, staring down at the scared wooden top of the old kitchen table. It was original to the house, older even than Barnabas. Willie suspected he knew what Julia was thinking. How come they both started despising and fearing Barnabas for being the monster he was and now, Willie was quite sure Julia was actually in love with him and as for Willie, he really did feel sorry for him. And kind of liked him, too. For some strange reason.

“I’m going to bed.” He stood up, swaying a moment as he got to his feet. “There’s a homespun blanket in the library on the back of the couch. It weighs a ton and it’s warm. I built a fire in there earlier so it shouldn’t be too bad.”

“You assume I’m spending the night?”

Willie smiled. “I know you’re spending the night. There’s plenty of wood in the box.”

Julia ducked her head, shaking it and laughing. “Thank you, Willie. I was Girl Scout. I know how to build a fire.” She looked up him. “Here, let me rewet that towel before you go.”

Willie had to stop twice on the way up to his bedroom but once he was there, he stripped quickly, dropping his filthy clothes on the floor. He set the towel down to pull on his pajamas and even managed to stick a couple of pieces of wood in the stove before he collapsed on the bed. He was going to hurt tomorrow and he wouldn’t even have ice to put on his injuries. He sighed at the injustice of his life, and fell asleep.

 

*****

Willie was sitting at the kitchen table, holding his aching head up with one hand, while he chewed slowly at the toast Julia was making him eat before she would give him more painkillers. He hurt everywhere, even places he didn’t know he had. Ironically, the only part that didn’t hurt was his right wrist and hand, where Barnabas had torn the flesh to feed. That part of him had healed nicely by the time he woke in the morning and now there was only a faint pink scar on his wrist that he knew would fade as the night passed.

Julia was filling a glass of water at the pump. She stopped as they both heard the cellar door opening.

“Good evening.”

Barnabas sounded so cheerful, Willie wished he could push him in front of another car. 

“Good lord, Wille.”

A hand tilted his head up and he as looking at Barnabas out of his one, uninjured eye. 

“That was probably my elbow,” Barnabas was saying, half-turned to Julia. “He’ll be all right, won’t he? No permanent damage?”

Julia laughed. Willie would push her in front of a car, too, except she set a glass of water and two white pills next to his plate of half-finished toast. He swallowed them gratefully, then put his head back down on the table. 

“I know it is a hell of shiner but before it got this swollen, I had a look.” Julia sounded very bedside mannerish, to Willie’s ears. “No damage to the eye itself. You might have cracked the socket for it to get it that bad but I wouldn’t treat it any differently if you had. How about you?”

“Me?” Barnabas was still sounding chipper and Willie still wanted to kill him. If Barnabas could be killed. Which Willie now knew would take more than hitting him with a big car at high rate of speed. “Fine.”

Willie raised his head as Julia said, “Wait, that’s not the suit you were wearing last night.”

Barnabas brushed his hands across the crisp grey tweed he was wearing. It was one of his double-breasted suits that buttoned up to show just a hint of subdued maroon tie. Last night, Willie tried to remember, he thought it was a black, single-breasted. 

“No, I changed. The suit I was wearing was ruined. I placed it, and my coat, and everything I had on, in a pile at the top of the back stairs. I’m going to have Willie burn them as soon as he is up to it. Then I have to write to my tailor in Boston for replacements.”

He started out the kitchen door, Julia at his heels. Willie, for no particular reason, got up and followed.

“When,” Julia asked, “Did you change?”

Barnabas stopped and turned, frowning. “Why does it matter?”

“You didn’t wake me! I was in the library.”

“My dear Julia! You were sleeping soundly and learned to dress myself long ago. I don’t even need a proper valet.”

Smug bastard, Willie thought. They walked into the sitting room, where Julia had built the evening fire. She was still wearing her muddy shoes and stockings from the night before. Barnabas gave her that annoying superior smile that made Willie want to hit him. Willie sat down on a straight-backed chair by the door, rather than one of the comfortable chairs, not so much to be servile but because he couldn’t stand up any longer.

“I want to exam you? Open your coat.”

“Julia, really. I’m fine. I am completely restored to what I guess my version of good health is.”

“Open the jacket. I mean it, Barnabas. You had a ruptured spleen last night, along with everything else.

“Maybe he’s ticklish.”

Willie blinked at his master and the doctor as they turned to stare at him. He must have said that bit about being ticklish out-loud. He leaned his elbow on the pier table and rested his head on that hand, since his head still felt about three sizes too big.

Barnabas looked unhappy but unbuttoned his coat and held it open while Julia pressed in on his ribs, first one side and then other.

“No pain at all?”

Barnabas re-buttoned his jacket as if he were a modest maiden ashamed to have seen in just his shirtsleeves.

“Nothing, Dr. Hoffman. I would think by now you would have realized when I am in this condition, I don’t get hurt easily and I don’t stay hurt.”

Julia gave Barnabas an annoyed look. “You were in pain last pain last night. Genuine agony.”

“He was really hurting before you saw him,” said Willie, before he realized he was speaking out loud again. 

“Barnabas!”

Barnabas sat down in his usual chair, giving Willie a stare that told Willie to keep his mouth shut.

“When I have broken bones and internal injuries, it hurts. Not for long, mind, but initially it hurts.”

Julia sat opposite him, frowning. “Have you always felt pain as a vampire? I thought you didn’t feel pain.”

“No, not usually. I can bump my arm on something and it doesn’t hurt but major injuries, yes, they hurt. When my father shot me, that hurt. Not for long, and I didn’t bleed as I did last night, but it hurt. Why?”

Julia was ticking her index finger against her mouth in her thinking mode. “I don’t know. I just never took pain into consideration when preparing your dosages. I didn’t before and didn’t this time.”

“Don’t worry about it. I can tolerate the pain of your injections.”

Julia made a disgusted noise and stood up. “I’m going to Windcliff. When I come down tomorrow night, I plan to start the injections. I assume that will be acceptable to you?”

Barnabas, ever the gentleman, walked her to door and helped her with her coat. “I’m looking forward to them. As you are well-aware, even if there are advantages to my current state, I prefer not suffer from it.”

Julia sighed. “I was just worried, Barnabas. I never saw you like that.”

“And now you see me as I usually am.” He opened the front door. “Good-night, doctor. I look forward tomorrow evening about the same time.”

She made a hmph noise as she left. Barnabas closed the door, laughing.

“She was right,” said Willie. “It was weird seeing you like that.”

Barnabas gave him another of Barnabas’ disapproving looks. Willie had catalogued quite a few of them over the years, depending on how tightly pursed Barnabas’ lips were and the location of his eyebrows. This was a fairly mild disapproval.

“I plan to avoid being hit by a car again.”

“You wouldn’t have been hit if you hadn’t pushed me. I was kind of surprised by that, too.”

“Surely you don’t think I want you injured or dead, do you?”

“No.” Willie licked his lips. They were dry and slightly swollen. “But did you know when you pushed me that it would hurt you that much? Or did you figure you’d just bounce?”

Barnabas was frowning as he sat down, not in his usual chair but in the one Julia had used, so he could look at his servant. “I didn’t think about it. I saw you were going to get hit and I knew I could move quickly enough to push you out of the way. I didn’t think about whether I’d get hit or not or whether it would hurt. Didn’t even cross my mind.”

“Really?”

Barnabas sighed. “Yes, there was a time when I hurt you. There was a time when I thought strangling you seemed to the best way to deal with you but. . .I don’t feel that way anymore. I seem to have gotten used to you and your obnoxious behavior. You know that. Now go to bed. It hurts to look at you.”

***

Willie was reading the newspaper when Julia and Barnabas came up from the cellar the next night. She was explaining she had used an especially thin needle for the injection and Barnabas was saying that wasn’t necessary. Willie looked up at them, still one-eyed. 

“I been reading the paper.”

Barnabas, who was rubbing the back of one hand surreptitiously, where Wille suspected he had gotten the injection, “Good for you, Willie. Always good to keep informed.”

“Interesting article in here about an accident about three o’clock in the morning day before yesterday. A car with two transients in it missed the curve at Frenchmen’s bridge. There was a bus of tourists off the road at the same place a coupla days before but nobody was badly hurt. These guys, they were both killed. According to the paper, they were suspected in an assault earlier this week.”

“Really?” Barnabas sounded bored as he went through the kitchen door. 

Julia stayed behind, giving Willie a cursory examination. “One pill, three times a day,” 

Willie caught her hand and she pulled away. “Did you hear what I said.”

“Yes, I know what you were implying.”

Willie shook his head slowly. “Not implying. I went to town and asked around. Told everybody that Barnabas and I had fallen down the hill and he elbowed me in the eye. Everybody laughed. Then I wandered into the Sheriff’s office. They didn’t find it as funny. Seems that night, after you and I were asleep, Barnabas went into town. They were holding the two guys because they had been speeding. They said the front end of their car got smashed from hitting a deer but the deputy said they pulled a piece of wool fabric out of the grill. Barnabas told the deputy on duty to release them. That he wouldn’t press charges. He just wanted them to leave town and never come back.”

“You’re saying he killed them?”

Willie nodded. “Maybe they deserved what they got. Probably did. But you and I got to remember something. Sometimes he is evil Barnabas and sometimes he is good Barnabas but they are both in the same body and sometimes, he kills people.”

Julia swallowed nervously. “I know.” Her voice was soft. “I know. But this time the cure will work and it will stick. I’m sure of it.”

“You better be, because if you screw up again, I don’t want to think what he would do.”

Julia smiled, her smile almost as evil as Barnabas’s could be. “I won’t screw up. Good night, Willie.”

She left. Willie finished the bowl of stew he was having for his supper, took his pill, then picked up the paper to read the comics.

 

October 17, 2017

**Author's Note:**

> This started out to go somewhere completely different, involving the two guys looking for Jason. Then it veered off sideways. I apologize for the info dump section about Barnabas driving. I usually avoid that kind of crappy writing but I am whipping these stories out so I left it.


End file.
